A Butler man (Yay for you, Fayette! This isn’t about you!) has been accused of keeping a wallaby as a pet and this is the part of the post where I tell you that I know OF the wallaby, but I do not believe I would recognize a wallaby if one walked, slithered, hopped, flew, or trotted up to me and slapped, licked, snarled, hissed, cawed or barked in my face.
Because as you can see, I honestly don’t know what the hell a wallaby is other than P. Sherman lives there at house number 42.
Now go Google it and see if you got it right, you uneducated mate.
Then go Google “baby wallaby” and OMG. THE CYOOOOOOOOOOT!
I have named him FooFoo and he is my tootsiepoppet.